


Ways of Seeing

by caughtitonland



Series: Teethmarks [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, [challenge] h50_50, [genre] angst, [verse] teethmarks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-29
Updated: 2011-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caughtitonland/pseuds/caughtitonland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's dead. He has to be. There's no other way to explain the curtain of white everywhere he looks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways of Seeing

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the Teethmarks series

  


He's dead. He has to be. There's no other way to explain the curtain of white everywhere he looks. That and the fact that he's floating, both should indicate that he's passed on. But then, there's that beeping. Nagging, and cutting through the brilliant light show that's taking away any hint of the headache that he'd woken up with.

Steve tries to open his eyes wider, but the sparkling blast of light only fades; he closes his lids and it becomes brighter again. Closed is better; closed is beautiful. The beeping cuts through again, and this time he can't stop himself from searching out the source of the sound, trying to figure out where it's coming from so he can stop it. It's then that the light begins to fade into color. More tangible now, it's becoming easier to make out shapes and images. Vaguely, he's aware of the mango-yellow walls, the winter-silver of the bed rails, the almost-violet blue of the sheets that cover only his most private areas.

The red is next, garish and terrifying, it bursts through the calmer colors like a gnashing animal caught in a trap. He blinks again and again, squinting and closing his eyes before finally making out the image he's seeing. It's his leg that's open and raw, his own limb that's currently exposed down to the muscle. Steve wants to scream, wants to wake up from the nightmare he's surely in, but when he tries he finds that there's something stuck in his throat. Something large and round, and god, it's going into his airway. His hand clanks against the rails of the bed as he tries to make noise, tries to catch the attention of anyone who might be close.

He doesn't see Danny sitting right next to him, curled up in a fitful sleep, weeks of vigil turning his partner into someone unrecognizable. Steve moans and tries to scream. He can't pull the tube out because his hands are tied to the rails, but he needs to do _something_ soon, otherwise he's certain that he's going to be trapped here for eternity. A woman he's never seen before rushes in, three more strangers behind her. They huddle around him like bees in a hive, all chattering nonsensically as they poke and prod him in different spots. He wants them to stop, wants to yell at them for touching him in places that they have no right to; wants them to take the damn tube out of his throat. Steve can't hear the broken sobs in the background, desperate and voicing the very same thoughts he's been silently screaming since they all came into the room.

Finally, one of them comes to their senses and, after turning off the machine that's been beeping the loudest, deflates something inside his chest and then pulls the tube out, freeing his mouth and throat. He coughs and sputters, chokes a little on how dry his mouth is, and feels the burn on his skin from where the tape had held the plastic in place.

“G-get away from me!” He barks out, his voice a stranger even to his own ears, hoarse and disjointed as though someone spent their afternoon dragging it through a trash compactor.

“Steve, it's okay. It's okay, babe, they're gone. They're gone,” The voice he'd barely paid attention to before is now the only one he can hear and the sound of it brings tears to his eyes almost instantly. Danny.

“Danno,” Steve whimpers, the adrenaline of waking up wearing off and leaving him trembling with both pain and fear.

“I'm here, buddy. It's okay, they were just makin' sure you were okay to be off the machine,” As he speaks, Steve gets his first good look at his partner; what he sees frightens him more than the experience of waking did.

Danny's face is gaunt. Shadows mark the deep hollows of his cheeks and eye sockets, the rest of his jaw covered in almost a month's worth of beard. His hair's longer than Steve's ever seen it, and hasn't been brushed in God knows how long. Any hint of tan that he might have been cultivating in the short months since moving to Hawaii are gone, replaced by a sickly sallow that washes him out to the same color as the foam on the early morning waves. His appearance isn't what scares Steve however; it's Danny's disposition that has fear shooting down his spine. He's too calm, too still, too quiet. It's as if he's watching the shell of his partner move about, filling a glass with water, another with ice chips. He moves with the dexterity of someone much older, and there's a vacancy in his eyes that Steve is sure will haunt him for the rest of his life.

He doesn't speak as Danny first gives him the ice and then the water to drink, both working wonders on his raw throat. When the cups are set aside, Steve seizes the opportunity and reaches out with newly-freed hands in Danny's direction.

“What is it?” Danny asks with a smile so kind, so lacking in any hope, that Steve wants to take his gun to his head that minute.

“Are you okay?” Steve watches Danny's chin tremble, watches his eyes fill up and finally, in contradiction to everything, watches him nod.

“I'm fine, babe,” Danny assures him, leaning over the bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead, his hand feeble and trembling in Steve's grip. He doesn't have the energy to argue, and the more he tries to talk, the sleepier he becomes.

The light becomes bright again as his vision starts to blur, the sun setting over Oahu making it hard to concentrate on Danny any more. When he wakes up next time, he'll have to lecture him on the moral ramifications of lying to one's partner. Next time though. Now he's just going to enjoy the light some more and let it take away the pain that throbs through every inch of his body.


End file.
